St. Augustine, Florida

My take on St. Augustine …  

I was expecting St. Augustine to be a quaint old Florida town. Between last Saturday night and St. Patrick’s Day, though, North America’s oldest city was hopping with revelers. My wife and I learned that St. Augustine is actually a popular party town. It’s more like New Orleans than Cape May. 

 

Whether you like to drink alcohol or seltzer water, however, St. Augustine is a very interesting place. Although it’s a city that can be easily explored by foot in a day, a 90-minute trolley bus tour will point out its many attractions and touch upon the city’s 460-year history. Its Spanish origins remain evident in the names of many streets and architecture of some buildings. 

 

There is no shortage of bars, restaurants, cafes, and shops in the area around St. George St. Just like New Orleans is very different from the rest of Louisiana and Cape May is nothing like the rest of New Jersey, St. Augustine seems unlike the rest of Florida. To my wife and me, it was reminiscent of an old Southern city, like parts of Savannah and Charleston and, yes, the French Quarter in New Orleans. We were reminded it is in Florida, though, because one of its best and most popular restaurants, Columbia’s, features a classic Cuban menu, and good Cuban coffee is easily available around the city.

To see a few more photos from St. Augustine, check out my recent Instagram post.

… and Microsoft Copilot’s take on my St. Augustine blog post: 

 

St. Augustine: A Hidden Gem of Festivity and History

“I anticipated St. Augustine to be a quaint old Florida town, steeped in tranquility and history. However, between the lively celebrations of last Saturday night and the exuberance of St. Patrick’s Day, North America’s oldest city revealed itself as a vibrant party hub. My wife and I were pleasantly surprised to discover that St. Augustine is actually a popular destination for revelers, akin to the spirited streets of New Orleans rather than the serene charm of Cape May.

“Whether your drink of choice is a spirited cocktail or refreshing seltzer water, St. Augustine offers an intriguing blend of celebration and history. Although the city can be comfortably explored on foot within a day, a 90-minute trolley bus tour is highly recommended to fully appreciate its myriad attractions and delve into its rich 460-year history. The city's Spanish origins are beautifully preserved in the names of its streets and the architectural splendor of its buildings.

“St. George St. is a bustling area, brimming with bars, restaurants, cafes, and shops, each exuding its unique charm. Much like how New Orleans stands apart from the rest of Louisiana, and Cape May distinguishes itself from New Jersey, St. Augustine seems to exist in a realm of its own, distinct from the rest of Florida. For my wife and me, it evoked the essence of an old Southern city, reminiscent of Savannah, Charleston, and indeed, the French Quarter in New Orleans.

“Yet, reminders of its Floridian roots are never far away. Columbia's, one of the best and most popular restaurants in the city, offers a delectable classic Cuban menu, and the availability of excellent Cuban coffee throughout the city is a delightful perk.

“St. Augustine is a city that seamlessly blends the festive spirit with profound historical significance, offering visitors an experience that is as enriching as it is entertaining. It's a hidden gem waiting to be explored, promising memories that will linger long after the revelry has ended.”

Return to the Rangers

It is often said that “you never forget your first.” That is certainly true of the first National Hockey League game I saw in person at Madison Square Garden on April 8, 1971. The New York Rangers hosted the Toronto Maple Leafs in an ill-tempered affair that featured no fewer than 34 penalties, a record for a Stanley Cup playoff game at the time.

Tim Horton, whose name lives on in a chain of cafes more than 50 years after he died in a car accident, scored the only goal for the Rangers in a 4-1 loss that tied the series at one game apiece. What I remember most about the game, however, was the hostility between the teams. 

Shortly before the game ended, during a brawl in which both team benches and penalty boxes emptied, Rangers captain Vic Hadfield tossed Maple Leafs goaltender Bernie Parent’s mask into the crowd. Jacques Plante (the first player to wear a mask in an NHL game a dozen years earlier) came in to finish the game for Parent, who didn’t see that mask again for 41 years.

I’ve attended about a dozen more NHL games in New York and New Jersey since then, but none as memorable as that first one. I was lucky to get tickets for that Stanley Cup quarterfinal game (the Rangers came back to win the series, four games to two) from the Star-Ledger hockey beat reporter, Walt MacPeek, who happened to be friends with a teacher who was impressed with the NHL newsletter I wrote and printed as a junior high school club project that year. 

I’ll always remember sitting right next to Jim Bouton, the former New York Yankees pitcher turned author and newscaster who autographed the Rangers yearbook I purchased at Madison Square Garden that night. Five years later, when the Herald-News softball team I played for faced the Star-Ledger team, I thanked Walt again for getting those tickets for me. 

My wife and I won’t soon forget the most recent Rangers game we saw at Madison Square this past Thursday night. The crowd roared as the Rangers bounced back from letting up a goal 85 seconds into the game to score six times in a row to beat the Philadelphia Flyers on a night in which only five penalties were called. It was our first hockey game at Madison Square Garden in 13 years. We hope it’s not that long before we return!

Newark, 9:30 p.m., Wednesday

Newark Penn Station was a grand part of New Jersey’s largest city in its day.
Now it’s just an other example of the city’s struggling attempt to recover from decay.

Where’s the fruit of the urban investments made in this metropolis that once thrived?

Where are the 23 degrees The Weather Channel claims are hovering outside?

It’s a Wednesday night in Newark in the dead of winter,
And seeing a Seton Hall basketball game at The Rock bring some hither.
But what about many of the others inside this God forsaken transit center?

A little girl in a pink jacket sings while sitting and playing on the much-trodden floor.
A young woman with pink hair frowns while strutting her black boots toward the door.

A big fellow with a black coat and white beard begs passersby for five dollars.
A man and a woman navigate their wheelchairs around the halls and holler.
An old guy in a hoodie sits on a wooden bench holding an iPhone and writing poetry.

Copyright 2025, Charles A. Bruns

Happy New Year

There's not supposed to be thunder and lightning in New Jersey

On this or any New Year’s Eve or ever in December.

Is that the Gods cursing the end of an unrighteous year? 

Or is it the latest warning that it’s not nice to fool Mother Nature? 

It can’t be ordinary thunder and lightning on a winter’s night. 

Nothing seems that simple anymore anyhow anyway. 

Was anything ever really what it appeared? 

What are those evident truths we remember? 

Maybe they were only a convenience for our minds, 

A rack for our thoughts to be held safely in place. 

I will be open-minded to new possibilities this year 

Because everything happens for a reason, 

Sometimes even for a good one or two. 

Maybe the Gods are indeed all-knowing and 

We mortals should just go along for the ride. 

Happy New Year!

Copyright 2025, Charles A. Bruns

22 Dream

 

The dreams by ‘72 were nestled in her head,

A few years after a family friend took them

For a magic carpet ride she would never forget.

“I want one, I’ll have one, someday, someway,” she said.

 

Eighty-two gave way to ‘92 and the love of a man,

Along with higher education and bills and a career,

And in due time a house, two children, and minivan,

Not merely one, not just two, but eventually three.

 

The new millennium dawned without mayhem,

And the little boys got big and left the nest.

The jobs came and went with the passing of years,

But not those dreams of the smiling little girl.

 

Life at the shore with boardwalk strolls and the beach,

Cruising along leisurely on bikes along Ocean Avenue,

Watching the river flow and all kinds of wheels,

Spinning north, south, east, west, on the roads.

 

The most magical of carpet rides emerges,

Complete with the world’s smallest bow tie.

“We can do this,” her mate declares one spring,

And begins reaching out on their computer and phone.

 

The waiting list stretches to seven months,

As the details of the dream become clearer,

Then a voice on the phone merrily announces,

“We’re ready to make your dream come true.”

 

Three months of winter later it’s a reality.

Her blue eyes stare at the long body in disbelief,

The mid-engine roars, the hard roof comes down,

And she smiles while finally driving away in her 22 Dream.

 

 

Copyright 2024, Charles A. Bruns

Las Islas Canarias

A word I found myself frequently using during my visit to the Canary Islands (referred to by local Spaniards as las Islas Canarias) this spring was “exotic.” Another word I used even more frequently was “wow.” There aren’t too many places in the world, after all, where ranges of mountains, some of them volcanic, and endless blue seas can be viewed at the same time. There are also few places where palm trees and cactus appear near each other.

But that’s just part of the allure of the Canary Islands.

 

Las Islas Canarias has a fascinating history and culture. Contrary to what many people may believe, the islands’ name is not derived from birds, but rather, from the presence of large dogs that early settlers observed. A species of birds on the island were subsequently referred to as canaries. 

 

The Canary Islands are believed to have been visited by many ancient civilizations, including the Romans, before Spaniards claimed most of it under their rule in the 15^th century. Spain was able to repulse attacks from rival empires as well as pirates and other invaders for hundreds of years. After the failure of an independence movement in the mid-1970s, the Canary Islands remain a largely autonomous Spanish province today. Its people, architecture, and food are largely similar to those of Spain, but in an exotic tropical island setting near the northwest coast of Africa. Wow!

 

Of particular interest to me during my visit to the Tenerife and Gran Canaria isles was the large presence of  Cuban immigrants. I got to practice my Spanish language skills with taxi drivers, waitresses, and other locals in Costa Adeje, Las Palmas and neighboring areas who said they immigrated to the Canary Islands from Cuba during the past 5-20 years. The irony is that their families originally left the Canary Islands for Cuba approximately 70-100 years earlier for economic opportunities, and then returned to the Canary Islands for mostly the same reason. Some told me that other relatives chose to leave Cuba for Florida and New Jersey instead.  

 

On a personal level, it was wonderful for me to spend time in the Canary Islands since many of my distant ancestors are highly likely to have emigrated from there to Cuba, according to my 23andMe report. Some relatives have also told me this. I’m grateful my wife, our sons and their wives and granddaughter were able to enjoy being in such a special place with me. It was the best vacation I’ve ever had.

 

I was informed in advance by the only other American I know to have visited the Canary Islands that people from the United States are considered “exotic” by locals. He was right. One of the tour guides even asked if our boat got lost on its way from New York. She pointed out some of the many sights in the Canary Islands that made me say, “wow.”

 

I encourage more Americans to visit the Canary Islands. I certainly look forward to returning! 

To see a few more of the pictures I took while in the Canary Islands, click on the following of my Instagram posts:

May 15

May 16

May 17

May 18

Love and marriage and love

Before marriage there must be love,

And after marriage there must be even more love,

For love cannot be the vessel to a marriage alone.

It must also be what nurtures and grows 

The happiness of the life together thereafter.

Love and marriage and love in that order,

In very good times and equally in bad,

On sunny summer days and cold winter nights,

During sounds of laughter and sniffles with tears,

When the pantry is full and glass half empty.

Love and marriage and love in that order,

Even when the jobs become very demanding,

And especially when the world becomes distracting,

Magnifying the lines between yours and mine

When they should clearly and continuously be “ours.”

Love and marriage and love in that order,

Just like this year will lead to the next,

And this decade to the one after,

As your young minds and bodies age

Evolving for better and for worse.

After marriage there must be more love,

For your everlasting love will be the foundation

That makes your strong marriage the fulfillment

Of a life you were truly destined 

To share together hand in hand.

 ©Copyright 2024, Charles A. Bruns

This poem was written for the marriage of my youngest son, Kevin, and daughter-in-law Hillary, and read for the first time at their wedding ceremony.